movie therapy

(As usual I've been tending to the quartet blog and left this space derelict. Apparently someone says the latest post is not so PG. Really?)

Have been hoarding TV shows since the summer TV drought. Pushing Daisies and Monk in particular. However I finally got down to watching Greys Anatomy Season 6's premiere; it's really a gem for anyone grieving, the kind of thing to recommend for movie therapy. I liked that the stages of grief (cf. Kubler-Ross) were not presented in a linear fashion, and the manifestations of grief ranged from the most subtle/innocuous, to the inappropriate, to the Freudian slips.

There are so many layers I think I might have to watch it again to get past the whole mindboggled-ness of it, but do check it out.

Singapore Boy's Home

The huge gunmetal grey metal gates rattled open. Grey concrete floors. More gates. The place looks like an old school, the only difference is that there are policemen sprinkled in corners, and plainclothes chaperones.

The boys sitting on the floor sprung up at the order and greeted us; it was rather disconcerting to be addressed as 'mam'. The stage was immediately in our face, a shallow stage, close to the ground, we unpacked our instruments, stands and books as they watched.

They sang along, clapped, talked, whispered, clustered, a few walked about, but they were generally supportive, responsive, and less fearsome than previously conceived. There were a few small boys, with faces so clear they look barely 12.

They filled in feedback forms, but we didn't get a chance to read them and probably never will.

But it was thrilling, having survived the talking above all the noise, constantly trying to up the energy level, sweating profusely on the airless stage. It felt a bit like quartet bootcamp. From what I gather this whole collaboration with MCYS is still in its experimental stages but if it eventually takes flight I think it's going to be a blast.

hitting rock bottom

Maybe this might be considered musician suicide, but having been the prodigal Christian for way too long it's embarrassing, I need to start reclaiming my Sundays and be resolute about the 'no work' thing.

killing demons

Recently resurrected my Diablo2 expansion game, after discovering the Mac OSX native installer from Blizzard Tech Support site. A bit late, especially since I remember playing it on my previous ibook that was running on OS X as well.

Realised that at significant points of my life I play the game, to release stress, or unexpressed aggression. Played it A LOT during A levels, during university exams, after those 8 hour studying days. Now there are no more exams, no more stress to release (except maybe for that concert tomorrow), but a lot more unchanneled interpersonal aggression, and frustration perhaps.

There is much pleasure in killing all those demons, as if they were an externalisation of all that ugly negative affect that wells up so unexpectedly it catches me by surprise. 'As if' is the operative word here. At best, gaming is an escape, and for it not to be, the negative emotions have to be exorcised before the game, so that the game is not imbued with undue significance.

accumulation of things

Tramped around Ion Orchard today with my cello, which turned out to be not a very good idea because the place is freaking huge and the human traffic, even at 2 ish pm in the afternoon, is considerably heavy, especially for the food basement.

The place has a very new smell, like that of unworn shoes, or excessive air freshener in hotel lobbies. The shops are a variation on the same theme of consumerism and creation of endless desires. Everything new, yet nothing new at the same time.

Bored, I wandered to Kinokuniya and bought manga, even though I am still acutely conscious of the fact that my new bookshelf has already run out of space and the comics are still overflowing out of white plastic boxes.

the stench of entitlement

Walked into a music shop today to get cello supplies and books, and stumbled into a conversation continued by staff members walking around regarding a difficult customer. Didn't think much of it until when I was talking to the luthier (instrument repairer), suddenly he exclaimed "This one!" - to the person manning the cash register.

Dark glances were thrown around the shop like those invisible laser rays you see in movies guarding precious museum exhibits.

I snuck a glance at the lady who brusquely strode in, waving around a violin case (the branded bam, no less), demanding to see the luthier who was caught midway while surreptitiously fleeing.

"I need a chin rest for my daughter", she barked, in a voice that bounced right off the wooden floors and round the shop. Surround sound at the most unfortunate moment. More dark glances were traded.

"Your daughter needs to try it out,", said the luthier in measured tones.

*indignantly* "Well she only finishes school at 645pm...her school is just down the road, SOTA." A pregnant pause ensued, as if she was waiting for applause or some sort of acknowledgement of her brilliant ability of a parent in producing such gifted offspring. Of course, it didn't come, and so,

"What am I supposed to do until then? Just wait?," she loudly demanded.

At 50 ish years old, needing to be told how to spend your free time is just not cool.

blast

One more day from being parentless in Singapore. Mother's flying to Tanzania to join my dad.

Quite looking forward to it, apart from the lack of food. But heck, any excuse to lose weight is a good excuse.

magenta and violet hair

Have been distracted from this space largely because Twitter is so much more convenient, takes up less brain juice, and Tweetdeck is parked nicely on my desktop. Have contemplated taking up a new blog address, given a series of unfortunate events that I think have subconsciously made me stop blogging. But anyway.

End of a crazy term and first day into break, I spend 3 hours sitting/sliding in a too-slippery chair, making mind-numbing Chinese conversation with the Beng stylist that reminds me somewhat of a pub singer with the name of a Looney tunes cat.

That, after throwing out my leftover university notes that I didn't feel like throwing 1 year ago. It formed a heap approximately 80 cm high. Farewell forever to social policy and planning, comparative social policy, gerontology, mental health, program evaluation, research methods.

Well maybe not forever. I still have 2 boxes left of notes on drug addiction, addiction counseling, all the various counseling methods notes, family therapy, abnormal psych, and cognitive therapy books I didn't know why I bought. Not throwing those out because some part of my brain thinks I will have need of it in the future, like when caffeine addiction becomes fatal, or if I accidentally become an alcoholic.

sunstroked

Recently discovered how Banana Republic's tees feel like a second skin. Bought 6 different colours of the same design which on hindsight now appear a bit excessive, but the overheated climate brings out a bit of craziness, among other things.

Decided to walk home instead of taking the train (or 2 buses), a decision which I regretted halfway into the walk because I was carrying my cello as well and the midday sun was insane, but soon after a grey cloud tailed me back home.

Young Victoria was exasperatingly boring I have never checked my watch this many times during a movie, and the dog had the most honest expression of boredom which pretty much summed up the film. The script was thin and didn't do justice to the cast. And the strings music was overkill.

Sometimes it takes the bad to make one appreciate the good.

(Season 2 finale of Chuck was jawdroppingly hilarious.)

considerably freer

23 days since the last post.

Recently read:
1. Stella Duffy's Singling out the Couples - postmodern fairy tale chick lit. Deconstructed the happy ending.
2. Toni Morrison's A Mercy - I tried Beloved, then Bluest Eye, then this, and after this I've officially given up. She writes beautifully, but I can't really connect with the whole slave trade/plight thing.
3. Alex Garland's Coma - read this if your brain's comatose. Or if you want your brain screwed into catatonia.
4. Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Collected stories - Even if you start off clueless, it gets better after the first few stories.
5. Hari Kunzru's Transmission - Fun, funny.

"Lie to Me" the TV series is interesting if you're interested in reading body language/facial expressions. Am watching it to distract myself from finishing the last few episodes of House Chuck Greys Criminal Minds Dollhouse.